


Ascension

by Elf (Elfwreck)



Category: Tarot (Divination Cards)
Genre: Angst, Collection: Purimgifts Day 3, Gen, Gift Fic, Philosophy, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 09:41:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29682018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elfwreck/pseuds/Elf
Summary: She has been warrior, wife, and widow, and now she will be something more.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7
Collections: Purimgifts 2021





	Ascension

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hagar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hagar/gifts).



War twists through the kingdom, and it is not the simple greed for a neighbor's wealth nor the desperate struggle for survival. No, this kingdom faces inward and fights its battles alone. Its war is only with itself; a storm of destruction rips through the countryside and justice topples in its wake.

A land without justice is a land without a heart. With no trusted hand to hold the scales, commerce turns predatory. With no trusted hand to hold the sword, some turn cruel and others turn craven. With no trusted soul on the seat, disputes become battles; battles become persecution; persecutions become tyranny. Someone must step into the role.

Nobody who loves justice could want this burden. But… someone must step into the role. And better her than one of those who would take it by force.

She has been warrior, wife, and widow, and now she will be something more. She sits on her throne for the last time, holding her sword and raising her hand to both welcome and take her leave of her subjects. The sky is clear and bright above her, but she can see the storm clouds in the distance - the land that is torn by strife and tears. And there will be more strife, more bloodshed, more tears, more loss, before she can claim her new role. 

The predators and would-be tyrants will not easily give up the gains they have made. 

No matter. She is strong; she knows how to wield a sword; she knows how to hear pleas and balance evidence. More importantly, she knows how to endure: how to keep moving forward when all seems lost, how to find hope for the future when the present is nothing but pain and chaos. She knows how to proclaim truth and make it reality.

She ponders her future. The claim she makes now will prolong her life. A queen lives thirty, fifty, eighty years; Justice lives until the rule of law is torn asunder. She is already tired, weary with loss and sorrow, filled with memories and echoes, and does not want more. She wants rest.

Her enemies do not rest. The enemies of her people, of the people who need her, do not rest. 

She points her sword to the distant, empty seat between the two pillars, to the ragged banner hanging between them, and says, "That… is _mine_."


End file.
